Love Is Not a Victory March
by foreverandnow
Summary: It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.


A/N: I just posted the beginning of my first story, so I guess that gave me the courage to post this. I wrote it a while ago and never did anything with it, so I finally decided to toss it out here. Title comes from the song "Hallelujah." Pick your version...I was listening to Kate Voegele's when I wrote this. The rating is for a few F bombs and unpleasant topics. I mostly wrote this because I suffered from an eating disorder as a teenager. I've been recovered for a long time, but it's still where I first turn when life gets a bit out of control. I thought Blair would do the same, and I wanted to see the show address this as well. I just think Blair's struggles at NYU would cause her more problems than just trying to be queen...so anyway, here's my take on the situation. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

_"Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." - Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen _

Their breakup isn't at all what he's expecting. He expects fighting and tears and destruction. With all the lying and the manipulation and the games of the past, he anticipates fire and chaos and collateral damage. In the end, there is none of that. Their breakdown is slow and gradual and infinitely more heartbreaking. Their ending is tragedy of the highest form because he sees it coming long before it actually happens and he is powerless to stop it.

She is obsessed with success at NYU. She is driven and motivated, which is attractive for a while, but eventually, it becomes boring and sad. She is so lost that she can't see what's right in front of her, and he doesn't know what to do. She lies and manipulates, and she does it to him just like everyone else. Sometimes he catches her crying, but as soon as she seems him, she instantly stops and pretends it's nothing. She doesn't talk to him, but she uses him to try to find her place. He wants to be there for her, but he doesn't know how. It makes him feel awful. He feels inept and worthless, and he thinks bitterly that if he was Nate Archibald, Blair Waldorf would confide in him and cry on his shoulder and he would make everything better. But Nate is dating Serena now, and they are bubbly and blissful and blonde together, so Blair is stuck with him.

He doesn't turn back to his old ways. Not completely, anyway. He has long since discovered that she is the only one for him, and so he admires sometimes, but never touches. He does start to drink more, sneaking scotch into the drawer in his desk and sipping from a flask in the limo and drinking himself into oblivion at night. Sometimes they go out, and they pretend that they are just as happy as they were a few months ago. But soon they find that they are long on time and short on conversation. They try to fill the void with sex, but she is apathetic, at best. Her disinterest wounds his ego, and it becomes a bit of a chore meant to keep them together. One night he recommends a game, and she gives him a glare so genuine that he feels certain it is officially over.

The next day, she calls him and asks him out to lunch, and they end up fucking in his office on his desk. He smiles his first real smile that night, abandons the scotch, and invites her over for a night of fun.

Three hours later, he is still waiting, his scotch has returned, and he is as depressed and despondent as ever. She calls eventually, and they mumble their ways through insincere apologies. It's the beginning of the end, and they both know it.

They manage to artfully evade the topic on both their minds for some months, but this is mostly accomplished through avoiding each other. He comes over when he knows she has class, and he leaves little notes about apologising for missing her. She makes plans with him, but they both know she won't show up. By January, they are seeing each other once a week or so. By Valentine's Day, he thinks he might be single. He considers buying a bouquet of peonies and attaching a sincere, heartfelt note about how much he loves her and how much he misses her and how he wishes, more than anything, that she would let him be there for her. But every time he has even hinted at something resembling a real feeling, she has gotten irritated and pushed him farther away. So on Valentine's Day, he gets hopelessly drunk in his suite and bitterly turns off his cell phone.

On February 15th, he has no missed calls, and his inbox is empty.

In March, he swings by her dorm room carrying a bag from Tiffany's. He's really not sure why he did it, but he's just not ready to let go yet. It's cliché and pathetic to try to bribe her with jewellery, but what else can he do?

She's not there, but her new roommate lets him in on her way to the library. He decides to wait, and he thinks of all the grand romantic things he's going to say to her.

Until he notices the mail and the enormous packet from Yale. He knows he shouldn't, but he opens it and discovers that she's been admitted for the fall. Her disciplinary record is spotless, as are her grades, and they've decided to give her a second chance. She hasn't even felt the need to tell him, so he leaves the extravagant diamond necklace on top of the Dean's letter and walks out for the very last time.

He takes a vacation after that, disappears to Europe and spends most of his two weeks drunk in a hotel room. Lily calls him, Serena calls him, Nate calls him, and even Eric calls him. But Blair does not, so he doesn't talk to any of them. When he comes back, he throws himself into work and tries not to think about her.

But most of the time, he fails.

It's a long time before he sees Blair again. His hotel is going well, but he finds no satisfaction in work. He thinks about expanding, and he crunches numbers and hires new people, but he never ends up doing anything. He's making good money and a good name for himself, but he's afraid of becoming his father. He's afraid of ending up alone. He's afraid of being the successful billionaire who is mostly loathed by everyone, and the fear becomes crippling. He thinks about psychiatrists, and settles for prescription pills instead. One day he finds that he can longer function without something to help him through the day, and he promptly flushes the pills down the toilet. That just leads him right back to alcohol, though, so it's mostly a wash. Sometimes he drinks too much to go to work, but his hotel is a finely tuned machine and a few days here and there don't destroy anything.

The summer passes, and he invites Nate to join him on a tropical vacation. Nate halfheartedly considers it, then ultimately chooses Serena. The perfectly carefree couple spends their summer in Greece and sends him postcards and pictures that he immediately throws out. He sometimes checks Gossip Girl, hoping just for a glance, but she's keeping off the radar. So in the end, he doesn't see her until November when she shows up at Lily's for Thanksgiving. Her mother has predictably run off somewhere with Cyrus, and Harold and Roman are busy with the vineyard, so Serena has invited her to spend the holiday with them.

It's the worst Thanksgiving he's ever had. She barely even looks at him, but he can't take his eyes off her. She gushes about Yale and how perfect everything is, but her eyes don't match her mouth, and she doesn't look good. When Blair is happy, there is nothing more beautiful. When Blair is miserable, it's written everywhere on her body. He knows from his very first glance that Yale isn't as fabulous as she says, that she's not really thriving. She's thinner than before, and she was too slight to lose much weight anyway. Lily seems to notice and encourages her to eat more, but Blair babbles on about how busy she is and how sometimes she just studies right through dinner by accident.

He knows it's no accident, but it's no longer his place to say so.

At the end of the night, Serena and Blair and Nate invite him to go out for a drink. He wants to say no, but he also wants to spend more time in her presence, so he reluctantly joins them. She can't seem to talk to him, and it makes him utterly miserable. So he drinks until they give him familiar looks of disapproval, and eventually he goes home without saying goodbye.

He sees her again in the spring when Serena has a birthday party at his hotel. He does it all for free, because she is his sister, but he makes his presence there mostly official. Serena is having a good time, though, and he decides that's okay. He's starting to think having a makeshift family isn't a completely terrible thing. But then Blair shows up, looking thin and pale with a plastic smile that never leaves her face. It does funny things to his stomach, and before he can think better of it, he's by her side. They talk that night, for the first time in a year. It's worse than he ever imagined as they decide to be friends for nostalgia's sake. He wants to throw himself off the roof at the absurdity of it all. For any previous desire to be more like Nate, he's decided that being Blair Waldorf's ex-turned-friend is valid reason for suicide. So after a brief uncomfortable hug, he excuses himself and seriously considers blowing his brains out.

He doesn't do it, of course, and he spends the rest of the night watching her. Yale has not been good to her, despite her assertions otherwise, and he's worried. He knows about her past and he knows that stress induces her self-destructive behaviours. As usual, he doesn't know what to do, and he decides it's mostly his fault that they're over. A better man would have fixed it before she slipped away. He sees now that she was barely holding on, even when they were together. A better man would have recognised it then and fought to save everything they had.

He doesn't really want to take a break, but over the summer, he agrees to spend a week with Serena and Nate in the Hamptons. Thanks to his stepsister's meddling, he finds out approximately twenty minutes too late that Blair is joining them as well. He decides to stay anyway, though he has a few choice words for Serena that cause his best friend to shove him into a wall. It's a good start, he thinks wryly, when Blair arrives and none of them are speaking to each other.

The next day, he's pretending to read a book by the pool when Blair and Serena emerge, scantily clad in their bikinis. Normally he would find the sight fascinating, but this time he feels sick. Blair is barely a shell of her former self. He can see bones beneath her thinly stretched skin, and he can't help wondering if it's a little bit his fault. His stomach hurts and he wants to vomit, but he forces himself to look at her gaunt figure as she continues her ridiculous charade, acting as though life is perfect as she's literally wasting away in front of them.

That night, she complains of a headache and skips dinner. He tersely asks Serena to walk with him, and he proceeds to yell at her and berate her until she bursts into tears. She confesses that she's terrified for Blair, but reasoning and pleading have done nothing. Blair refuses to admit that she's sick and Serena doesn't know what to do. As they walk, he discovers it's the real reason they're here at the same time. Serena needs help, and for some reason, she thinks he's the one for the job.

For the first time in a very long time, he is glad that he's so good at getting what he wants. While Blair sleeps, the three of them quietly plot in the study. It takes several hours and several drinks, but by midnight, they have a plan. In the morning, Serena convinces Blair to go shopping. He's waiting for them at the corner, and they all but drag her into the doctor's office. She doesn't want to make a scene, of course, so she sits quietly and waits for her turn as they cautiously make sure she doesn't bolt. She's fifteen pounds underweight, dehydrated, and anemic. He wants to cry, and Serena actually does. But Blair says nothing as they head back to the house, once more claiming she's tired and slipping away for a nap. Serena stays to watch over her, and he goes out to buy things the doctor recommended, like sports drinks and iron supplements.

When Nate has to go back to his internship the next week, he decides to stay with Blair and Serena. He talks to her over meals made by the cook, and it's the most they've talked in a year. She tells him things, like how her mother pressured her into applying to Yale just when things were getting better at NYU and how Yale isn't really what she expected. She tells him that she's scared, and when she gains three pounds and panics, she finally cries on his shoulder. He's terrified, but he's more afraid of losing her than of saying the wrong thing. So he holds her and lets her cry, and then he carries her up to his room and they fall asleep together for the first time in a year and a half. He wakes up early and watches her sleep, deciding she's more beautiful than he remembers and that he still loves her with everything in him.

At the end of the week, she asks him to stay a little longer. He is more than happy to oblige. He stays for a month, working out of the bedroom and taking her for walks and sitting with her on the beach. He starts to tell her things, too. He tells her about the pills, about how he's afraid of becoming his dad. She listens – really listens – the way no one else ever has. She looks at him when he talks, and when she picks up his hand and weaves their fingers together, all the problems and the fears start to look a lot smaller. He thinks he won't turn into Bart Bass if he has Blair Waldorf at his side. He thinks they're going to be okay. He thinks they're going to make it after all. He thinks a year and a half apart isn't such a big deal in the grand scheme of things, and he starts to get comfortable again.

Then August comes. He has to go back to work, and she has to go back to New Haven. He kisses her and promises to come see her the very next weekend. She's teary-eyed and oddly quiet, and he doesn't feel right as he heads back to the City.

He's never really sure what happens. Something comes up that weekend, and she asks if they can reschedule for the next weekend. It makes him nervous, and he yells at her. She's gained eight pounds and looks almost like herself again, and he's worried that she's going to forget all her progress. It makes him crazy, so he says things he doesn't mean and when he hears her crying on the other end of the line, he hates himself.

He knows he needs to fix it, but he's an idiot. He sends her flowers, and then he sends her jewellery. But the damage is done. He doesn't trust her, and she isn't happy. He wonders if it is just too hard for them. He wonders if loving each other is really enough. Deep down, he is terrified that they only work when they don't have to contend with the real world. Maybe Chuck and Blair are only good at being Chuck and Blair in a vacuum. When school and work interfere they crumble, and he thinks that maybe he's just no good for anyone.

At the end of the second week apart, he calls and tells her there is a crisis at work. They both know it's a lie, and she asks him not to call again. He agrees, and he feels a million years old when he hangs up the phone. He's only twenty, after all, and he's lost the love of his life more times than he can count. She's the only one for him, but he fucks it up every time.

Through September and October, he picks up the phone a dozen times a day to call and beg for forgiveness. One time, he manages to actually make the call, and he's so surprised when she answers that he doesn't get to his point at all.

A week later, she calls while he is in the shower and leaves him a voicemail. "Chuck, it's me," she begins, and as soon as he plays back the message, he hears the tears in her voice. "I just want to tell you," she continues, "that I'm really okay now. I've been messed up for a while, but I'm getting back on track. Yale is going better and I'm doing fine. I just thought that maybe you should know. So now you can go on with your life like you wanted. Goodbye, Chuck."

It's unselfish and considerate, so he knows it isn't her. And the way her voice shakes as she says the words, he knows she isn't fine. Blair isn't one to ask for help, so he has a feeling this is it. This is her begging him to understand that she's really not okay and she needs him to do something to fix it.

But therein lies the problem, because he can't fix it. Weeks pass as he contemplates the next step, and soon it is her twenty-first birthday. He buys an appropriately extravagant gift, then decides it isn't right. He's bought diamonds before, and despite any momentary pleasure, she's still not his. Clearly, diamonds aren't the answer. Instead, he books a villa in Tuscany and orders a case of her favourite champagne. He buys a bouquet of peonies and heads early to her mother's penthouse, where the celebratory dinner is to be held. Technically, he's not invited, but he hopes his gifts will convince her to reconsider. He's so happy about his clever plan that he doesn't notice his cell phone ringing, nor does he notice his text messages. He shows up to the Waldorf-Rose home only to be met with Eleanor's cold stare as she explains that Blair is no longer coming.

He's confused as he leaves, and he wonders what could cause Blair Waldorf of all people to miss her birthday. She loves her birthday more than anyone he knows. So he checks his cell phone and he listens to Serena's messages. Apparently, Blair's grades are slipping. She's failing a class and her mother found out, so birthday dinner is cancelled and Blair is too upset to make the trek to the City even for dinner with Nate and Serena.

Failing grades and missed birthdays are so far from the Blair he knows that he doesn't even hesitate before telling Arthur to drive to New Haven. It's slightly crazy, and he realises that, but he finds he doesn't care. When it comes to Blair, most things don't. So he coerces Serena into giving him the address for Blair's new apartment, and she barely even puts up a fight. He has a feeling she knows as well as he does that something is really, terribly wrong. They'd nearly lost her once, but her spiral ended in nothing worse than a brief romp with Carter Baizen (the name still turns his nose). This time, he's not so sure she'll be that lucky.

Her apartment building is lovely and historic and everything he expects from Blair, but he can't really take the time to notice details as he hurries up the elevator to her unit. He's carrying bright pink peonies and plane tickets and hoping desperately that she's going to let him in to her apartment…and her head. And if she does, he vows to himself that this time he isn't going to let her go. He's gone through this too many times, required her forgiveness on too many occasions, watched her slip through his fingers until it's driven him mad. Tonight, he decides, he will tell her that he loves her and he will make it be enough. He will hold her like he did in the Hamptons and they will lay in bed and talk about everything until they finally figure it out, once and for all.

He is strumming with nerves when he knocks on her door. He knows she's there, but she doesn't answer at first, so he tries again. He finally hears her footsteps, and when she finally opens the door, his heart drops to his feet.

It's nine in the evening on a Friday night – the night of her birthday – and she's wrapped up in a red silk robe with no makeup and stringy hair. At first glance, she doesn't look much thinner than the last time he saw her, but she looks terrible anyway. Her face is so pale, her eyes so dark and heavy, and her jaw is strangely swollen. He knows immediately she's failing a class because she's throwing up again. He's torn between grabbing her and shaking her until she comes to her senses and just throwing his arms around her to convince himself she's still okay.

In the end, he settles for neither of those options. "Happy birthday," he says quietly. He hands her the flowers, but holds onto the plane tickets until they've talked. Surprisingly, she lets him in without much fight, and this just worries him even more. He follows her into the kitchen and watches as she finds a vase for the flowers. As he observes, he notices empty food packages and her shaking hands. So she's been throwing up quite recently, he expects, or he's interrupted her before she can do so.

It's almost too much to take. The girl he's loved for so long is falling apart right in front of him. She's so beautiful and perfect. She's so smart and witty and he doesn't understand how she can be so oblivious to the wonders of Blair Waldorf that have for so long been obvious to him. She almost drops the vase, her hands are trembling so much, and it's the final straw. "Blair," he whispers, his voice breaking on the single syllable.

"I don't know what happened," she confesses, clearly too exhausted to even try to justify or explain or lie.

He steps to her side and wraps his arms around her, hugging her close. "I know," he whispers.

"I'm so tired, Chuck."

"Come home with me," he asks, but he's really not asking as much as demanding (secretly pleading). He doesn't mention the tickets to Tuscany, afraid of overwhelming her, but he hopes that when they get back to New York, she'll welcome a chance to escape for a while. He can help her heal in Italy, and then they can come back and start over. "Forget about Yale for a while. Come home with me."

She nods against his chest, and he guesses she's been waiting for someone to tell her it's okay to do just that. He holds her longer than he really needs to and smoothes down her hair before finally releasing her. She mumbles something about changing her clothes and grabbing some of her things, then leaves him to wait for her in the kitchen.

She's gone for all of one minute before he realises how incredibly stupid it was to let her walk away unsupervised. Considering the scene in the kitchen, she probably shouldn't be left alone right now. He hurries through the apartment, searching for her bedroom and immediately locating the bathroom. Of course, she has locked the door. "Blair!" he cries, just in time to hear the awful sound of her retching. He's an idiot and this is his fault, so he begins pounding on the door and calling for her. "Blair, stop!" he demands in agony.

But she doesn't stop, and she doesn't let him in. He's seriously considering breaking down the door to keep her from subjecting herself to this yet again, but then the retching suddenly stops. When it's immediately followed by a thud, he really does break down the door. He very likely breaks his shoulder in the process, but he's not at all concerned about broken bones when he finds her lying lifelessly on the floor.

Years later, he will remember this night in painstaking detail, though he hardly feels aware of himself at the time. He shakes her and he calls her name, hoping she is just exhausted, but her skin has taken on a strange hue and she's unresponsive and he's shaking all over as he calls 911. The dispatcher asks him questions he doesn't want to answer, like if she's breathing and if she has a pulse. He leans close and he watches her chest and he realises in complete horror that she isn't breathing. Seconds later, his terror multiplies because he can't find her heartbeat. "Don't do this, Blair, don't do this," he begs hysterically, and the dispatcher has to yell at him before he realises that she's going to die if he doesn't do something.

But he doesn't know what he's doing, and he's choking back sobs as he follows instructions to start CPR. Soon he's pounding on her chest and breathing into her mouth and hoping hoping hoping she will open her eyes. He's so afraid he's hurting her with each forceful compression, but she's still limp and he can't stop. Paramedics finally arrive, and he tries not to watch as they work frantically to save her life. He chokes his way through all the information he knows, then begs to ride in the ambulance with her. Their refusal finally returns him to some semblance of himself, and he's instantly making threats and offering enormous sums of money until they realise there's no use fighting him. He is a Bass, after all.

The ride to the hospital is filled with scary medical jargon and things he doesn't understand, so he sits in silence and he watches her, memorising everything about her in case he never sees her again. It's a dark thought, but he can't help it, and he's lost everyone he's ever loved, so it only makes sense. He can't help thinking about all the other times he's lost her and how it's never really seemed real. They have always been a force to be reckoned with, and something always brings them back together, no matter how terribly it ends. But this time, there will be no reconciliation. If he loses her this time, it's over. For good. His mind suddenly and irrationally flashes back to right after their first time together when he found her at the church. For some reason he doesn't understand, he begins to do something he's never done before. He prays.

She's alive when they get to the hospital. He kisses her forehead once before they whisk her away, and it's the worst hour of his life before anyone reports back to him. He calls himself her boyfriend and again makes threats and bribes in order to get information, but he finally learns that the starving and the vomiting have caused an imbalance of potassium, which led to her cardiac arrest. She's in intensive care, but they're correcting the imbalance and his immediate CPR may have been enough to save her from an otherwise almost certain death. None of this makes him feel any better, and when he sees her, weak and pale and not even breathing on her own, he feels worse.

He is the one to call her mother, and he is the one to call Serena, and in the end, he is the one to make dozens of calls and secure a place for her in a treatment centre. He has decided, on his own, that as soon as she leaves this hospital she is headed for treatment, and he doesn't care what Eleanor Waldorf has to say about it. He doesn't trust her not to pick the most expensive or the most discrete, and all that matters to him is that she gets the best treatment.

Eleanor and Serena sob, and Nate's eyes look suspiciously moist, but his own tears are all dried up now. He stoically sits and waits for her to wake up, and he remains mostly silent until she does so. Eleanor ignores him, and Serena tries to comfort him once she's regained some composure, but he doesn't want to talk to anyone about anything. So he sleeps for an hour here and there, and the next afternoon, he is finally rewarded for his patience with a flutter of her eyelashes and a squeeze of his hand.

"Chuck," she whispers when she sees him beside her, and then he ignores everyone else present and climbs into the bed to hold her and finally allow himself to feel the fear of losing her and the relief that she's still here. Later, when they are alone, he realises that she died and came back to life on her birthday. It's poetic, in a weird sort of way, and he holds her a little tighter and kisses her hair and promises her that he's never going away again, no matter what.

Her mother protests – loudly – when he announces that a bed has been reserved in Blair's name at a treatment centre in Oklahoma. Eleanor is shocked and outraged and horrified, and she makes it clear that Chuck Bass is to have no say whatsoever in what happens next. Blair surprises him by shouting at her mother and informing everyone that she will in fact be going to Tulsa.

He decides he's never been more proud of her.

A week later, they're on a plane together. She's scared and worried and begs him a few times to turn back. He wants to, to make her happy, but he can't, or he knows what will happen. She's been fighting this for too long now, and it's mostly been a losing battle. She cries when he leaves her, but he promises to return soon, and Serena is going to come visit, and even her dad is planning to come for the family week. He books a room, indefinitely, at the Ambassador in Tulsa, and he makes plans to run the business from Oklahoma until further notice.

He visits as soon as he's allowed to (and he actually follows their rules, believing they might know better than him), and they walk and talk and begin to work their way back to okay. She's not too sure about this place, but she seems committed. She's scared even herself, and she's trying to get better.

The next time he comes to visit, it's not nearly as pleasant. She's working out all her issues in frequent therapy, and not surprisingly, he comes up a lot. It makes him feel horrible and guilty, and he hates thinking he's the cause of even a little of this. Even before he fell for her (and he suspects it was long before either of them admitted it), he never wanted to _hurt_ her. Even when he plotted and schemed against her, it was because of his jealousy and hurt feelings and his completely inability to communicate real emotion. They fight that day, and she asks him to leave, so despite his vow not to go anywhere, he does as she requests and spends the next week locked in his hotel room speaking to no one.

The next weekend he goes back, and she startles him with a confession. "I don't want you to be here because I'm sick."

He doesn't understand, and he tells her so.

"We never work, Chuck. We keep trying and we never work. I don't want you to be here just because something bad happened."

"I'm here because I love you," he tells her honestly. It's the only answer he has for her. It's not enough, and he knows it. He sees her slipping away for the hundredth time, but he's not going to give up so easy. "For your birthday I wanted to take you to Tuscany," he tells her, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him. "I can't keep doing this, Blair. I can't keep losing you. I wanted us to start over."

"You've said that before," she reminds him, her voice wavering a little.

He doesn't know how to tell her all these things he feels. He doesn't know how to convey in words how much he misses her when they're not together, how terrified he was when she nearly died, how committed he is to making this work once and for all. And it's true; he has vowed to do it right and they've still fallen apart. He wishes he was someone else, the kind of person who could just say the right things and be the right person. But he's not. He's Chuck Bass, and he's miserably flawed, just like her. They're like two broken jigsaw pieces. They belong together, but they just don't fit anymore.

He's never really wanted to go back and do everything over, but he does now.

"I want to get better, Chuck," she whispers. "I still love you, but I don't know if I can do this."

The words cut through him like a knife. He feels like she's slipping through his fingers, and if he doesn't do something now, it will be the last time he sees her. But he can't live like that. His world hasn't been the same since the very first night he touched and tasted her, and he can't go on pretending to be okay if she's not with him. "I need you," he tells her desperately.

Tears fall down her pale cheeks, but she just shakes her head at him. He's fairly certain he's dying, and he reaches out to take her hand. "I just…I don't know," she says, and he knows she's not trying to hurt him. She's lost and confused and she's in _Oklahoma_ of all places, so life really hasn't worked out for her. But he can't walk away. He remembers too vividly the ghastly grey pallor of her cheeks as she lay still beneath his hands. He remembers all too clearly the sickening feeling of his hands pounding her chest. He still wakes up in a cold sweat remembering the silence when he searched for her pulse. And more important than any of that, he remembers when she whispered his name and he held her again.

"I promised myself something," he informs her, still holding onto her hand. "I promised I'm not going to give up this time. I almost lost you, Blair," he reminds her. "You died right in front of me. You were dead in my arms and I would have died, too, if you hadn't come back. I'm not giving up." It's almost a warning, a threat that he's not leaving, even if she asks him to. And he's not. He can't. He will make her understand or he will die trying. Without her, he turns into Bart Bass and he takes too many pills and he spends his time in miserable silence. Without her, things don't make as much sense, he can't focus, he can't sleep. She's made his life hell since the very first day, but he's a masochist and he needs her. It's an entirely different hell without her, one that he can't endure. "I'm here because I love you," he repeats, "and we're going to make this work."

She stares right at him, tears shining in her brown eyes, and tells him the words he is so afraid of hearing. "I just need time."

He nods, acts like this isn't worst case scenario, and he leaves. He thinks about going home, as he probably should at this point, but he's still hoping she's going to call him and ask him to come back. Her family week comes and goes, and he is not invited. It's been three weeks since he's seen her and he's in the middle of adding up some figures when there's a knock on his door. He expects room service; he gets her.

"No more pills," she warns him.

He nods.

"We have to talk."

He nods again.

"Thank you for saving me."

He doesn't know how she's here, but he doesn't ask questions as he pulls her into the hotel room and makes love to her the rest of the night. In the morning, he takes her back to the treatment center, and they kiss and kiss and he smiles as she walks confidently back inside. His Blair is back, and she is going to kick some ass.

She stays for six months. Eventually he has to go back to New York, but he flies down every weekend to spend time with her. She is glowing and healthy, and he gets such satisfaction when she starts to complain about the deplorable conditions. She even gets to leave with him sometimes, and they go out to eat at Tulsa's finest restaurants (they all make her turn up her nose) and then sit and talk or watch a movie in the room until she no longer has the urge to rid herself of dinner. She confesses one night, wrapped up in his arms, that she still thinks about it sometimes, but then she thinks of him. She hasn't purged once in six months, and he's so proud he considers proposing on the spot.

He has the ring, after all. Upon arrival in New York, Tiffany's was his first stop. He now carries the little box around in his pocket, with that extraordinary ring, ludicrously expensive but still somehow tasteful, as he knows she wants. It's platinum and lined with tiny diamonds, enough that anyone who knows anything will see that it's very top of the line.

He doesn't do it, though, and he doesn't know exactly what he's waiting for. More time, perhaps, time to figure things out. There's no falling apart this time, not anymore, but he needs her to know that, too. So he waits, and one day he finally takes her home. She promptly moves in with him, to her mother's horror, but when she sees for herself how healthy and happy Blair is, she doesn't protest. To his surprise, Blair re-enrolls at NYU. It takes her an extra year to graduate, but he is consumed with joy when she finally receives that diploma, walks across that stage, looking more beautiful than ever. It's still a struggle sometimes, and they still fight, but she talks to him when she's stressed, and though it still physically pains him to do so, he shares his feelings whenever they arise.

Nate and Serena get engaged, and he wonders if she's jealous when Serena flaunts her ring. He's a little pissed off with his best friend, since Nate is impulsive and only has the ring for two hours before proposing and stealing Chuck's thunder. But he knows Blair will never forgive him if he proposes now and makes her share her limelight with Serena, so he waits, just a little longer. Serena doesn't waste time getting married, so it's really only a few months until the blondes are happily wed and he and Blair are sitting together at the gorgeous reception. He squeezes her hand under the table, hopes she knows what it means, then takes her home.

He plans a dozen epic proposals, but none of them seem right. One morning he wakes up to the smell of coffee and waffles, and she practically floats in with a tray for him. She doesn't cook, so he knows the food is Dorota's handiwork, but they lay in bed and eat waffles and drink coffee and laugh and he knows he's never been happier in his life.

"Marry me," he requests just as she bites into another waffle.

It's not the proposal she expects, and it isn't the one he plans. It isn't planned at

all, but he can't wait another moment for her to promise. With her impossibly high standards and grand romantic streak, he knows she expects hundreds of peonies and probably some exotic location and him down on one knee. Instead, she gets a fervent request while they're both still in pyjamas on an ordinary Wednesday morning while Dorota tidies up the kitchen. It's flawed and imperfect, just like them, and it's probably why she says yes. She cries as he slips the ring on her finger, and they make love as the future Mr. and Mrs. Bass.

Life isn't at all what they expected when they were little. He isn't Nate Archibald and she isn't the perfect queen. It's heartbreak and it's pain, but it's beautiful and epic, and when she finally walks down the aisle and says two simple words, he decides it's worth every awful moment.


End file.
